Awful Flirting and Murder
by DancingThroughStars
Summary: "Not like sexual role-playing. Which you might be into. And that's fine because people like what they like. And, hey, who knows, I might enjoy it too." -AU/OneShot


He was the murderer.  
He had to be the murderer.  
Granted the evidence at this point pointed to a handful of people but there was something in her gut that was telling her that it was him. He was telling half-truths and lies with a falsely sincere smile and why the hell was no one questioning him more.

No, people instead were coming up to him to click glasses, a few to flirt, but none lasted to long seeing as he seemed to be skilled in the art of brushing people off. And that would not do because he was obviously the killer and now it was going to be up to her to prove it. This was not what she had signed up for tonight.

She had just wanted to stay in with a glass of red wine to pair with a Big Belly burger and watch Netflix to ungodly hours of the morning, with no bra and hobo clothing.  
But here she was now. Dragged out by friends. Wearing towering heels and a short red form fitting dress.  
And how did no one else see that he was the murderer?

Grabbing a drink from a passing tray, she downed the contents, letting the liquid heat her stomach and give her courage. Because let's face it, she was about to walk into the lion's den, and she was going to have to join him at the table that he had finally decided to settle at. And she needed to control her mouth, because this was not the time to let him know that she was on to him. And now she was going to have to play blackjack, which she hadn't touched since the 2010 incident.

But no one else was going to talk to him. No, he had managed to push the attention from himself.  
Dammit he was the murderer.  
Even if he was incredibly attractive.  
Was it even legal to be that good-looking?

He quirked an eyebrow at her.  
She'd said it out loud. Things were going great already.  
"I'm supposed to flirt with you. Not that I want to. I mean in normal circumstances I wouldn't approach you and be like this is me flirting with you. But my card says I'm supposed to be flirting with you. You're the club owner's best friend, who use to date the club owner's wife, but you broke up when you slept with her sister? Right? Or is that not you?"

Maybe if she could just stop talking he would respond. She bit her lip to prevent any more words from spilling out and he was smiling at her. It was small and genuine and not the smile she'd watch him give others. No, that one was large, as though he wanted to prove a point. This was a simple one.  
He was still the murderer.

"Apparently I am." He motioned for her to take the seat next to him, "Do you play?"  
Dear Ada Lovelace, of course she played. It wasn't like this was a real casino. And she highly doubted that she would be thrown out again.

"I do. But I probably shouldn't. Counting cards and all that." He gave her a look. "I just came over here to flirt with you, as per the directions on my card. Because this is my role, we are role-playing."  
Frack.  
"Not like sexual role-playing. Which you might be into. And that's fine because people like what they like. And, hey, who knows, I might enjoy it too."  
Breathe girl. She knew she was flushed and could feel the dealer's eyes on her and knew that he was holding back a grin. This was not how she figured this would go. Not at all.  
"What I meant, is I am a show girl/waitress who is called Starla Velvet who is desperately trying to move up the social ladder and I'm head over heels for you."

"Really? You just told me that you were trying to move up the social ladder."

"Oh, I am. But I am still very much into you and feel that we would work well as a couple. Not us, us, but this us. I know I'm saying the same word, but it sounds different in my head." He gave her that tiny smile again and she saw some of the tension leave his body. Relaxing and less on edge was good for her, not that he was just going to fess up to being the killer, but he had waved off the dealer so now it was the two of them slightly removed from the rest of the room.

"And why, Ms. Strala Velvet, would we work well as a couple?"

"Your money meeting my razzle dazzle of course." She flashed him a bright smile and he gave the faintest of chuckles. It was a pleasant sound and he looked lighter as he did so. Though this whole being a different person but still herself thing was proving to be even more awkward than she had first thought.

"It's awful what happened tonight though. Not the flirting with you, but I was awful at that, but the whole death by arrow thing. The guy had it coming to him though. Not that I killed him. Not in my skill set. Figure as a show girl, if I killed him he'd be covered in glitter. An arrow though? A bit ridiculous if you ask me." His jaw tightened for just a fraction of a second and his eyes scanned over her, "But I mean, he was no good, a ton of people wanted him gone it seems."

"He failed this casino." There was the confession! The secret smile and enticing eyes and hot damn she was right he was the murderer. And why was he giving in so easy. Unless she was reading into things too much. But all the clues had pointed to him. This was not the time to second guess herself.

"So it was you."

"No."

"Yes."

"Was this the reason you came to talk to me? Because you think I'm the murderer?" His tone was soft and teasing. He'd angled himself towards her, pressing himself closer than was necessary. Not that she was going to complain. Nor was she complaining about the way that he was looking at her.

"I've done my research. I talked to people. All the clues lead to you Mr. I'm-going-to-be-all-attractive-and-broody-and-dismiss-everyone-who-comes-near-me."

"You're taking this murder mystery party seriously."

"I hate mysteries. They bug me. They need to be solved. Murder." She poked a finger into his hard chest. Like incredibly hard. How long did he have to spend working out to get like that? Oh, did this mean he was one of those health nuts? When was the last time he had cake? She had it for breakfast, it was one of the better decisions she'd made this week.

His hands hand wrapped around her finger and pulled her closer which resulted in her squeaking and his smile to widen as she found herself nearly in his lap. And she was tiny compare to him. And he was so close and so warm. And he was not going to distract her with this physical attractiveness. No. She had a game to win.  
She was stubborn and single minded when she needed to be, and he was about to find that out.

"You've been caught. I know you did it. I know how you did it. I know why you did it."  
His fingers were tracing circles onto her wrist. Trying to distract her.

"What's your name?" That was not the response she was expecting.

"Star-"

"No, your real name. I'm Oliver." Of course he was. Everyone knew who he was. Even if she was living under a rock she would know that he was Oliver Queen. But that didn't stop the fact that his character for tonight was not Oliver Queen, but that of a murderer.  
Though she was pretty certain that it was Oliver Queen who she found herself leaning into his touch.

"Felicity. Now back to you killing your best friend's father." She said in a firm voice.

She needed to stand firm. This man was used to women becoming putty in his hands and she was not going to let that happen. At least not now when she had a game to win. Putty could come later.

"What do you do Felicity?" Oliver asked. Putty might come now. She had not been prepared for the heat that spread through her body when he said her name.  
Pull it together.  
And when had her hands found their way to play with the buttons on his shirt? Why had they betrayed her?

"We are not doing this right now. We are discussing why you opted to put an arrow into a person instead of talking it out like adults."

"Because without a murderer there is no murder mystery party." Oliver deadpanned and she couldn't help but smile. There was too much of an ease to the conversation. After all her initial babbling she had figured that it would just go downhill in a tangled mess of awkwardness.  
But no. Now her hands were on his chest and his had found their way to her waist.  
What even?

"Yeah, I guess a 'we sat down and talked out our differences party' would not be nearly as much fun. Though personally, if this was all real and you had let me into your plan. Well, not 'Starla' me but 'me' me. Anyway, before the whole let's result to killing, I'd say the best thing to do would to let me do an intelligent interrogation with him." He gave her a look that was a clear indication to go on. "You know, you could have grabbed him, we'd tie him to a chair, and then I would come in with all his personal information, and start donating large sums of his money to various charities. Put him on the no-fly list. Ruin his credit score. Bit more civilized than the whole arrow deal. Am I allowed to use those skills to get a confession from you? Starla doesn't have those skills, but I do."

"Could you really do that?" He asked, impressed. She smiled. That was probably answer enough. His hands found hers, "Remind me never to cross you."

"Says Mr. Murderer."

"Felicity," Oh yeah, she really enjoyed the way he said her name. He could just continue to say her name like maybe in some very non G-rated situations, "If you happen to win this thing, would you like to go to dinner with me."  
Wait. Hold up a moment.  
Was he blushing? Really?

"Now, I don't want to read too much into this. But are you asking me on a date? Like an actual date? Like a date date?" This was a turn. Such a turn. Like, she had not expected this when she came over to try and decided if he was in fact the murderer. Because he was Oliver-fracking-Queen and she was, well, Felicity-babbling-Smoak, but here he was somewhat flustered about asking her out. Like out, on a date, out. And they were still pressed together, and she could feel all his hard lines, and hot damn the way he looked at her made her need a glass of water.  
What the hell had happened?  
Why her?

She was remarkable and brilliant, and she was not going to talk herself out of this. Because there was something so intriguing about the Oliver, not Oliver Queen, but just Oliver. He was confident to almost a cocky degree but stoic at the same time with dry humor, and he was blushing while asking her out.

He was going to be the best kind of trouble she thought as he stumbled over his words before pausing. "Felicity, when you win, would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Yes." She nodded her head fervently up and down as a wide genuine smile graced both their faces. He was even more attractive smiling than he was brooding. And hold up one moment!  
"You said when. I am right. You are the murderer!"

Turns out she was also right on them working well as a couple.

* * *

Notes:

I was trying to work on a second piece to 'She Refused to be a Swooner' and got distracted by this idea of a murder mystery party.  
So I went with where the inspiration took me.  
Seeing as I knocked this thing out at like 5 in the morning hopefully it makes some people happy.


End file.
